Under the Table: The Heartfelt Connection of Food and Family
Previous story mention of Lard. In the kitchen of Taiwan, one can gauge the level of prosperity by observing which part of the pig a mother selects to stir-fry the lard. Pork loin is the optimal choice, and it's a delightful dish to prepare for friends and family. The pork mentioned earlier is sourced from the pig's belly. While it may not be considered a prestigious option, no one can dispute the fact that my mother has the ability to transform the ordinary into something extraordinary through her culinary skills.
After all, sometimes you have to save face. In the 1990s, friends and relatives often came to visit during festivals. When the guests sat down to chat, I would hide under the table and sneak food. I would also hide under the table and pick up the scissors to cut out words from the newspaper. This is how my mother taught me to recognize words as my eyes began to improve. The words I cut out every day varied and so on. Those practice significantly improved my reading and writing skills in a short period of time.
Our dining room table expanded over time, transforming into a large round glass table. Despite the lack of privacy, many of my friends relished my mother's cooking. This was likely because she always prepared soup for her loved ones with genuine care, demonstrating her ability to elevate the simplest pleasures to heartfelt moments of tenderness.
I remember how she used to take me to the food market with great interest. We would follow the meat vendor's uncle and the vegetable stall's aunt, learning about the origins of the food and the culture. Through these experiences, she taught me to appreciate the diversity of food and drink, and to open my heart to feel the warmth and love of family through meals. She always said, “Kayo, your relationship with food often reflects your behavior.”
When I was growing up, I was truly blessed with a good appetite. However, my mother never anticipated giving birth to a cook who was illiterate. The world is evolving rapidly, with convenience stores popping up everywhere. Young people detest the inconvenience of cooking. Who knows when the fire that sustains us will lose its source of passion? I, who have always felt disconnected from my father's generation, have found joy in being a woman who can relish a man's cooking in a restaurant.
In reality, the land I grew up in has some fundamental unresolved issues. For children born in our era, our parents were probably like this: after a difficult childhood, we were welcomed into Taiwan's economic boom. Fewer people were well-educated, but many were wealthy. You can imagine how differently we interpreted life and the reality we faced from our parents.
